That’s a Resounding Yes If I Switch from Malbec to Mad Dog

I was out of wine. Knowing I wouldn’t have another chance to replenish the coffers because of a ridiculous schedule yesterday, I went shopping first thing in the morning.

A man I’d seen hanging out on my apartment stoop was propped against the wall next to the door of the liquor store. I don’t think it would be presumptuous to say he was very likely not a tenant in my building. I’d only ever seen him wearing one sad, filthy coat, and when I was bold enough to look him in the eyes, they were always watery and red. I’d often wondered where he spent his nights.

The lights were on in the store, but the door was locked. It was 10:07, and the store was supposed to open at ten. Coat man turned to me as if we were about to have a conversation and produced a long, mumbling rant – something about the police? and Jesus? – and then he spit, the gob landing closer to my feet than I would have liked. I took a step to the left.

A second man arrived, looked at me and coat man, shook the door handle, then made a call on his cell phone. “Let me in, I’m back.”

I said, “Is there someone in there?” I hadn’t seen anyone, though the lights were on and the sign noting the day’s wine tastings was sitting outside.

The man nodded. “He’s by himself,” he said.

A third man hurried across the street to us, and with an Eastern European accent said, “They’re not open?”

I shook my head.

Coat man stopped mumbling and as clear as a shot of Absolut, said, “He’s in there, he’s just late.”

A man emerged from a back room and let us in. Cell phone man took his place in what I guessed was the stock room. Coat man and accent man headed right for the counter. They knew what they wanted, but so did I. It took me only a moment to pick up two bottles of Malbec from the front discount bins. It was the same wine I always bought – cheap and decent.

I got in line behind accent man, while coat man leaned on the counter to the right of the cash register. He didn’t seem to be in a hurry like we were.

Accent man asked the man behind the counter for a half-pint of Smirnoff. He paid with cash and sped out the door and across the street. I stepped up to pay for my Malbec, and gave counter man my credit card. While he waited for it to process, he said to coat man, “You want one?”

Coat man stepped closer to me, leaned again on the counter. “Two. It’s two this morning, my brother.”

Counter man turned and plucked two half-pints of Wild Turkey off the shelves and sat them by the register. I walked away with my wine as coat man counted out bills and change.

Here’s my question: Does it mean I have a drinking problem if I’m waiting for the liquor store to open with two people buying pocket-sized bottles of booze?